


mirrors have never done me any favors

by izumiko



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, He’s doing his best, M/M, Other characters are just mentioned, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, we love zuko sm, zuko u big ball of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izumiko/pseuds/izumiko
Summary: zuko, the banished prince. zuko, the nobody at a tea shop. zuko, the boy who betrayed the only person that ever cared about him. zuko, the avatar’s friend.zuko, the firelord who can stand to look at himself in the mirror.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 176





	mirrors have never done me any favors

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know what came over me to write this but here’s a little snippet of some zuko angst <3
> 
> \+ for my best bestie kourt

Zuko had always hated looking in the mirror. 

When he was young, living in the palace, he saw a kid who wanted nothing more than his fathers love- even just attention. He saw puffy, red eyes from silent tears shed in the corner of his room, and a smile only shown around a select few. 

He saw nothing more than a prince who felt like he would never live up to the title. 

When he was thirteen and banished, sent to live out a nightmare for the rest of his life, he saw a prince with nothing left but a mangled left eye and rage bubbling in his chest. The mirror reflected everything his family had said about him, and he hated every second of it. 

Coward. Weak. Honorless. Undeserving. 

Most of the mirrors on his ship were shattered by the end of his first week aboard. 

When he was sixteen and tired, so damn tired of being so close but never close enough, he saw his reflection in the water of a stream telling him everything he thought he knew was a lie. He knew Azula lied. He knew he never should have trusted her. But he did anyway, and what did it get him? 

A title of fugitive. A coward. A prince who used to have nothing but the hair on his head, and now he didn’t even have that. 

Uncle told him it would be ok. They’d figure out a new life, somewhere, anywhere. Zuko knew Uncle didn’t lie, but in his heart he wanted to go home. He wanted to see his face in a mirror and feel proud of it. Zuko had never figured out the definition of home. 

When he was living in Ba Sing Se, serving tea with Uncle, Zuko saw frustration on his brow and tight, curled fists wrapped around a broom. He saw spiky hair that would never fit into a top knot, often being ripped out in fits of anger in the dark silence of night. 

In his dreams, he was shown everything he thought he wanted. Zuko never truly knew what he wanted though. 

When he was on a ship on the way back to the Fire Nation, he looked in the mirror and saw confusion. Frustration. Guilt. Not the bright smile he thought he would see. 

Zuko thought he would’ve been happy to be going back. He would have everything he had ever wanted, but he still saw the same Zuko he saw at thirteen in the mirror. Mad at the world, mad at himself, mad at everything. 

The Fire Nation welcomed him back. They cheered, they smiled, like none of the past few years existed. Zuko looked down at the crowd, shouting his name, and he frowned. 

His room was exactly the same. Like no one had stepped a foot in it since he left. The sheets on his bed looked untouched, yet clean. His collection of scrolls and plays was still stacked on top of his dresser. The mirror was still there, hanging on the wall, taunting him. 

A portrait of him and his mother sat propped up on his dresser as well, her eyes boring into him with a blank expression. Zuko wondered if she thought he had done the right thing. If he could ever look at himself again after joining Azula and not feel the pang of guilt in his chest. 

He set the picture down, wiping away the faint layer of dust that had accumulated. His curiosity got the best of him, looking out of the window that showed the smallest bit of the gardens. 

The grass looked yellow, trees had lost their leaves and the once pristine stone had gotten cracked and unkempt in his mother’s absence. No turtleducks in sight, not even the faint chirp of a far off bird. 

Zuko pulled the curtains shut, vowing to never open them again until it stopped reminding him of the good moments that happened so far and few between. 

When his father called him into the throne room, Zuko’s heart dropped to his stomach. He had always wanted this moment. He told himself he wanted this moment. He didn’t know if he wanted it anymore. 

His hair had been tied up in a forehead pulling topknot, the crown prince hairpiece stuck into the base. He looked like a prince. Zuko grimaced at his own scowl he saw in the mirror, rolling his shoulders and sighing. 

Mai told him it would be just fine, and Zuko trusted Mai. Azula told him it would be just fine, but Zuko didn’t trust Azula.

Ozai’s presence weighed on Zuko like a boulder. He stared at the ground, refusing to look up into his father’s terrifying eyes. Everything was going to be ok, he assured himself, but the heat from the flames grew stronger and Ozai’s words became harsher, and he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

When he got back to his room that night, Zuko laid awake for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling above, refusing to think about what he must have looked like next to Ozai. He figured his father probably thought he still looked the same weak, confused kid. 

On the day of the eclipse, Zuko left everything he knew, everything that was familiar behind. Just for a chance at forgiveness, a chance to look in a stream and not scowl. 

Somehow, he did it though. He had a chance, maybe not at forgiveness, but a chance to forgive himself. That was the least he could do, especially knowing Uncle would be proud. 

The Avatar welcomed him into their group, albeit hesitantly. Zuko was familiar with the angry gazes that bore into him when he sat around their fire, and he understood. He didn’t necessarily think they’d all become friends just like that, and Zuko had never had real friends anyways. It was normal. 

When he sat atop a huge flying bison on the way back from the Sun Warriors after learning from the dragons, Zuko didn’t even have to look at himself to know he was happy. Even if his face didn’t show it. He enjoyed the Avatar- Aang’s commentary and even shot him a few grins. 

(Which earned him an excited “Sifu Hotman knows how to smile!” from the boy). 

Zuko had only been with the group for a few days, and there he was, in a prison with Sokka, who’s name he kept accidentally forgetting. Must’ve been the butterflies in his stomach when he grabbed Zuko’s arm or something. 

Luckily, Zuko had underestimated Sokka and they somehow escaped after a frustrating encounter with Azula. Zuko sat on the floor of the huge war balloon, hoping that Mai was safe. Even though he was sure their relationship wasn’t really that, he knew Azula was ruthless. 

He didn’t look in any mirrors that night, worried he might see her disappointment staring back at him. 

Once they were back at the Air Temple, Zuko noticed he began to cling to Sokka’s side like it was nothing. He felt safe, even if Katara scowled at him every chance she could. He didn’t let it get to him though, it was understandable. 

But suddenly, after the most terrifying day and a half of his life (because seriously, blood bending?), Zuko had a real family. He promised himself he wouldn’t get attached, because who really knows what war brings, but damn if he wasn’t happy. 

Their firelight conversations grew deeper and deeper, Zuko often simply listening to stories and myths from the others. Every so often he’d share something about Uncle or his mother, occasionally earning him a few saddened smiles, but he didn’t mind. They were nice stories after all. 

On the night before the comet, Zuko’s nerves got the best of him as he laid awake in his Uncle’s tent. His head was racing, questions about what would happen next at the forefront. 

What would the world look like if they won? If they lost? What would he look like? Uncle said he would be Firelord, but that seemed impossible. 

Eventually he drifted off into dreamless sleep, his frequent nightmares seeming to give him one night of peace. 

They won. They won, they won they won. Katara’s voice repeated in his head as he tried to stay upright next to her, watching the war balloon land. He ran his fingers over his chest, the fresh wound tender under his touch. At least he wouldn’t have to see this scar when he looked at himself. 

Aang and Toph were the first to spot them, launching themselves into Katara’s arms then proceeding to lightly hug Zuko. He noticed Sokka and Suki slowly walking over, Sokka hobbling on a crutch with an arm around Suki. They both shot him huge grins though, making Zuko feel better than he had in a long time. 

Zuko was the Firelord now, and he was terrified. He stared at himself in the mirror, eyes stuck on the gold hair piece tucked into his top knot. His fathers. The man he had just beaten. Now he wore the exact same crown. He hated it. 

He didn’t know where Roku’s hair piece Uncle had given him was. He assumed he hid it somewhere in a fit of rage, never wanting to be reminded of it again. 

Zuko desperately wished for it now. 

When Zuko was newly eighteen, he realized he was in love. Sokka’s bright smile around the palace was truly a menace, making Zuko’s stomach do backflips. He was scared though, having just repealed the marriage laws in the Fire Nation. He worried about a lot of things. 

Mostly about political things, the awful “perks” of being Firelord. Occasionally though, he worried about what Sokka thought of him. He wondered if the other boy thought of him the same way, how Zuko got lost in his thoughts about Sokka’s sparkling eyes or his sly smirks. 

Zuko figured after only having just broken up with Suki, Sokka wouldn’t have thoughts like that of any kind for a while. He was ok with that. 

When Zuko was twenty and Sokka had adjusted to his position as Ambassador, he decided to tell him how he felt. The mirrors around his room showed how he had changed, his hair now falling at his shoulders and lips often turned up in half smiles. They showed how ready he was for this, whether it end good or bad. 

Luckily, it only ended with the boys falling into a turtleduck pond. Sokka, ever an eager man, wasn’t exactly the brightest in terms of attempting to shove just Zuko into a pond, who still had his arms hooked around Sokka’s waist. That was the only bad part. 

When Zuko was twenty four and Sokka was blurting out “will you marry me” while they sat in a canoe in the waters of the South Pole, Zuko saw his reflection light up as he launched forward into Sokka’s arms, eyes welling up with happy tears. His frantic nods through the wet laughs seemed to be enough for Sokka as he ran his hands through Zuko’s messy braid. 

Somehow, Zuko had everything he had ever wanted. Maybe his younger self didn’t see it that way, he certainly didn’t have his fathers love, but he had a family of people that loved and cared about him. 

Maybe he would never exactly stop hating his reflection, maybe there would be days that were worse than others. When he could see Ozai’s reflection staring back at him when he had to wear the flame hair piece or when he saw Uncle’s disappointment after he betrayed him. 

Zuko would still have those days, he knew that. He also knew that on the good days, he was a man that he was proud of, who had everything he wanted and he earned it himself. 

So when Zuko looked in the mirror now, he didn’t see rage or confusion. He didn’t see a coward or a disappointment. Zuko finally knew what he wanted, what home really was, and damn if he wasn’t happy with it.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ might make a sequel about sokka + zuko together but let me know :) mwah


End file.
